Tomorrow afternoon I have to head back to the Dreaded Evil Agency with Eli again. This time to retrieve her airticket home. These guys just never learn. Hopefully this will be a peaceful encounter, sans the police.

“Early on Sunday morning, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and found that the stone had been rolled away from the entrance. She ran and found Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved. She said, ‘They have taken the Lord’s body out of the tomb, and I don’t know where they have put him!’….Mary was standing outside of the tomb crying, and as she wept, she stooped and looked in. She saw two white-robed angels sitting at the head and foot of the place where the body of Jesus had been lying. ‘Why are you crying?’ the angels asked her. ‘Because they have taken away my Lord,’ she replied, ‘and I don’t know where they have put him.’ She glanced over her shoulder and saw someone standing behind her. It was Jesus, but she didn’t recognize him. ‘Why are you crying?’ Jesus asked her. ‘Who are you looking for?’ She thought he was the gardener. ‘Sir,’ she said, ‘if you have taken him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will go and get him.’ ‘Mary!’ Jesus said. She turned to him and exclaimed, ‘Teacher!” – John 20:1-2, 11-16

All night I laid in bed, staring at the slats of the bunk above me. ” Tomorrow is the day we have been preparing for, the day we have been fasting for, praying for, waiting for. Easter. Hope fulfilled.” Around 3:30am Kelli climbed down from the creaky top bunk and shuffled out into the common room to read. In the half room connected to ours, Julie clicked on her light and I heard her rustle through her journal for a blank page. It wasn’t long after that the Ascension House staff started making their final preparations for breakfast; slicing tomatoes and apples, washing the grapes, warming the pancakes and boiling the water. The guys set up the tables out on the porch, only the house light lit to guide them in their task. I continued to lay there with growing anticipation. Easter.

We went up to the mountain the afternoon before, to wait for the Easter Sunrise Service. We ourselves had made preparations for a big day. We had taken off the day from work, make arrangements for a place to stay, read the stories, prayed the prayers, fasted the fasts. It was all leading up to this morning, long before the sun even rose. Finally, I couldn’t lay in my bed anymore. I was up, and so was everyone else. We were quiet, respectful, but busy. Flipping on lights, setting out food, gathering candles, finding shoes and sweaters. Standing outside the chapel, its blue roof lost in the unbroken morning sky, we tried to get our bearings and figure out which way was East. The singing started. A door slammed to represent hurried excitement as the women and disciples rushed out to the tomb. Prophecies read. Hope. We lit our candles and walked in a jagged single file down the stone path to the cross. From the church grounds, through the woods, we walked silently through the stone opening that lead to the clearing. The cross stood waiting. Empty. We could see the beginnings of the morning creeping into the sleeping city below. There was no sunrise, but there was light from behind the clouds that mercifully withheld its rain. A symbol of remembrance in the form of bread and wine were passed around. Greetings of peace and joy followed.

“He is risen.”

“He is risen indeed.”

A closing prayer. The blowing out of candles no longer needed. We marched down the broken steps slick with mud to the breakfast waiting for us. The waiting has ended, because hope is here.

I think of the waiting the disciples did, with the women cooped up in a small room. Waiting for the soldiers to come and take them away. Waiting for the nightmare to be over. Waiting for word as what to do next. Waiting for the Sabbath to be over so the women could set to the sad task of preparing the body. I imagine that Mary didn’t sleep much that Saturday night either. I am sure she tossed and turned, rising well before the sun, arriving at the tomb at the first light. But her anticipation, her preparations, what she waited for, was not hope. In her sorrow, she did all she knew to do. To say goodbye. From the moment the blood and water flowed from the spear, to that very morning, Mary had been waiting to say goodbye. Then, standing outside of the empty tomb, expensive spices sitting unused on the ground, she didn’t know what to do other than to weep. In all of her waiting, had she really lost her hope?

“Mary!” Jesus exclaimed. She finally recognized him. “Teacher!” He called her by name. She recognized his voice. The oils and the spices would stay unused. They were no longer needed. All of her anticipation, all of her preparation, she was glad to abandon. Hope fulfilled.

While some may think that I blog to make everyone jealous with my stories of riding elephants through the tourist-jungle of Thailand – really, that’s not it.

My title is “Walk With Me.” When I first started blogging, back in the days of the Bartending Seminarian, it was a way for me to connect with people that I was fond of, but otherwise had not had much or regular contact with since college. I enjoyed the updates, pictures and silly discussions on pirates vs. ninjas. Over the years (can you believe we have been blogging for years!?!) over blogs have each evolved and become a little deeper, a little more introspective. There have been really great discussions – sometimes I felt like I was sitting in McAlister’s, or Panacea, listening to the sarcasm and wit of dear friends.

As of late, I’ve noticed a trend – well, I think its safe to say we’ve all noticed a trend, that when we post the things that are painful to write, or are deeper than a weather-update, the comments seem to be lacking. I don’t know that I can speak for everyone, but when I post the harder stuff, the deeper stuff, the things that make me think – I’m doing so because I want to share my thoughts, and because I want your input as well. There are things that I write, and things that I post. When I post its because I am wanting to draw my friends into conversation.

I also want it to be said that updates, pictures, silly surveys (see post below), and such like of the which are fun and great and have a place here too. Because honestly, we’re fun people – so why shouldn’t we share our fun sides on the blogs as well? But, I miss the discussions that used to take place here. While I didn’t participate in the politics discussion because that’s a topic I usually steer away from, it was good to see people out and talking (umm, commenting) again. I don’t have to be reminded that we have crazy busy lives with a collective 4 babies on the way, three degrees in the making, and a wedding. And then we have jobs. We lead busy lives. But. The people that I have on my sidebar – the blogs that I check faithfully – are people that I genuinely care about and am interested in what is happening in your life. So, know that I am always reading, even if I don’t always comment. And I am going to try to get better. And I hope you will too. I’m not just saying here at Walk With Me – but in our community of blogs.

There has also been the comment that sometimes there are no comments because we feel intimidated on certain subjects, or feel like we don’t have a place to say anything. Or that some things are just too personal and they are conversations to be had in person. Well, yes, that may be true (about conversations being personal – I’m pretty sure none of us have a valid reason to feel intimidated – you all are pretty stinkin’ smart!). I am guilty of feeling intimidated. There are times that I feel like I having nothing to contribute, because my knowledge on the subject is lacking. But, I learn from you guys. And conversations over coffee are a luxury. And maybe blogs aren’t the place for that, but if not, then where? Just because I don’t get to see you all very often, doesn’t mean I want to miss out on communicating with you.

So that’s my rant for today. Not applicable to all, I know. Just know that if you are on my sidebar, its because I value what you have to say. So I hope that next time someone in our community posts something thoughtful, we, particularly I, can take the time to let them know we appreciate their thoughts.

Also, blog and blogging are not recognized by the blog-spellcheck. Odd.

Because I had waaaay too much chocolate and now I can’t sleep and am instead posting a meanlingless blog, knowing this will probably get more comments than my well-thought out ones….

“I”

I am: up way past my bedtime
I think: I’ll regret that tomorrow
I know: all the words to the Rent Soundtrack
I hate: my alarm clock
I don’t: any clue why I ate so much chocolate tonight
I can’t: believe I’ve been here 8 months already
I can: almost stand on my hands (just a few more yoga classes….)
I will: be traveling to 5 countries in 8 months
I won’t: forget my camera (ha! David! ha!)
I miss: clean air
I fear: not being able to express myself
I feel: the presence of God more now than ever
I hear: more languages on a daily basis than I have in my entire life
I smell: fish the moment I step out of my flat
I crave: open space
I wonder: when I’ll get around to doing the dishes?
I regret: little
I love: playing card games
I dream: of seeing my boyfriend soon
I care: so much that sometimes it hurts
I always: check my email right before bed
I am not: easily labeled
I believe: in God’s Grace
I sing: loud when I’m alone, and not at all when others are around
I smile: when I think about my dogs
I laugh: at my own mistakes
I collect: friends and magnets
I play: like I’m strong
I write: things I know I am never going to share
I await: the hope of Easter
I cook: haha, no really, I don’t don’t
I trust: more than I used to
I intend: to sleep more than I do
I search: for my keys in the bottom of my purse
I look: at myself in the mirror less than i used to
I shout: instead of Tide or All
I whisper: prayers over people I work with everyday
I conquer: fears of insecurity and lonliness
I listen: mostly to chick music, but occassionaly to heavy metal
I live: by Grace

If you haven’t read the previous post, which you probably haven’t, because most of my loyal readers were sleeping during my harrowing ordeal, please check out the post below first. Otherwise, this one won’t make a lot of sense.

After two hours of soliditary confinement, my hero(s) finally arrived! After calling everyone that I knew in Hong Kong, I realized that a) I don’t know many people here; and b) nearly everyone I DO know was on Lantau Island today – which is a good 30 minute ferry ride from here. So. I called in the Baklas. Well, the Bakla and the Bakla-wanna be. 🙂 If you don’t know what a Bakla is – than that last sentence is not nearly as funny to you as it is to me. Just know that I’m laughing – cause Bakla = funny stuff.

I interuppted $20 all-you-can-eat Napelese lunch day for my Bakla friend and had him come rescue me from my prison.

<—- Bakla wanna-be friend and Bakla friend waving and laughing, because they apparently thought this was funny. Maybe was funnier from the outside….

So I learned two things today:

1. As much fun as it is to be independent, sometimes a girl needs rescuing.

I have someone staying with me this weekend, and when she left this morning, she locked the front gate. What she didn’t know was the the gate had an automatic lock, and by physically locking it, it slid the deadbolt over. The deadbolt, I should mention, cannot be undone from the inside. I’ll have to admit, I didn’t know that either. But I do now.

(this is the culprit gate…very secure, no?)

So, I sit my little flat, thankful for an internet connect, with the door open, the gate locked from the outside, waiting on a hero to come rescue me.